


Into The Mountain

by Vertizontally



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Magic, Fae & Fairies, Falling In Love, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Is Bad at Feelings, Xenophilia, magical transformation, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27704834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vertizontally/pseuds/Vertizontally
Summary: Gavin's family have long made a living on a wild mountain thanks to a generations-old contract with the fae. Gavin has everything he could ever need, staying alive on his skills and wits alone.But this asshole of a dragon lord seems to be hell bent on pushing him to the edge anyway.-Where Gavin is a hunter making his home on Nines' mountain and Nines may have some feelings about that. So now Gavin has to navigate a relationship with cunning trickster fae AND one very haughty dragon that could eat him whole.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 12
Kudos: 89
Collections: Reed900 Reverse Big Bang





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SMDeviant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMDeviant/gifts).



> This is intended to be a fairly long fic, with one chapter per week until it's finished. For now, I hope you've enjoyed the first two chapters!
> 
> I will be including SMDeviant's amazing art on the chapter it's involved in, but you might see it early on their twitter!
> 
> [Come say hi on my Twitter!](https://twitter.com/Vertizontally)
> 
> [Go give SMDeviant some love!](https://twitter.com/SMD_Rapture)

It’s early in the season and Gavin has a spring in his step, having already dropped off his meats to the local butcher and the hides from those kills to the tanner. It’s a good start to the year, and his trade is doing as well as it always has. He’s even made a few good connections with travelling merchants for the more obscure things he tends to collect on the mountain- a few of which still remain in his pocket.

He rounds the home of the blacksmith and leans down to pat at the large, lazy “ _ guard dog” _ that monitors the yard. Sumo lifted his great shaggy head to acknowledge him before resettling himself. Gavin gives him a last scratch and gets back on his feet, continuing to the smithy.

Hank growls at him as soon as he enters the workshop, tossing aside a hammer and his enormous leather gloves to turn and face him.

“Fucksake, Reed. Come to bother me with more of your shit?”, Hank barks at him, standing closer to offer a handshake regardless of his attitude.

Gavin grins. “Ah, but this time I have something you actually want.”

Hank looks at him doubtfully, but tilts his head to the bench.

Gavin moves to lean against it, dropping his satchel on top to pull a few carefully wrapped packages from within.   
  
“Deer livers, hearts, kidneys, spare cuts- all as asked. Nothing diseased.”, he unrolls one of the packages showing the organs contained within. Freshly butchered and clean of any of the parasites that deer were unfortunately prone to.

Hank takes them all with a grateful nod, reaching to pull a few coins from his pocket -poor Sumo had proven to take rash from cow meat in his youth and Hank paid top dollar for the cuts from Gavin’s hunts- but Gavin waved it off, grinning at Hank’s sudden suspicion.

“Mind telling me why you’re not accepting payment for all this?”, Hank furrows his brow.

Gavin slaps his hand on the workbench, “I’ve come to make a deal, Hank.”

“What kind?”

Gavin flashes a broad grin, pulling a few more packages from the satchel and one from his pocket.

“I need iron and steel, Hank. You have it. New arrowheads, a few new knives. A few dozen nails for my new smokehouse… and a new smoker for it.”

Hank scoffs, “That all, Reed? Want me to make you a fucking horse made of gold while you’re at it?”

Gavin shakes his head, “No, but a new still barrel would be nice.”

Hank’s eyes narrow, “And what are you paying for it? More than a few cutlets I would hope.”

Gavin unrolls the larger package on the table with a flourish, showing odds and ends. “Some antlers shed from last season to keep your new pups from chewing you out of house and home…” Gavin shifts the antlers around showing the healthy amount of them, “A few new collars made from some of the best hides I had for durability and comfort.” he hangs the strips of leather from his hands, “They just need buckles and tags.”

Hank does look suitably interested, taking the antlers and collars to feel over with his rough hands. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Gavin pulls out a notebook to show his list and specifics to Hank, carefully drawn designs that are easy to follow.

“Gods, Reed. The material alone will cost more than what you’ve offered me here.”, Hank shakes his head.

“Of course, which is why I’ve got these-”, he unravels the small roll on the table, showing his latest collections from the depths of the mountain. The gems shine even in their rough, natural state catching the light. “-far as I can figure from the traders that bought similar ones off me last year- they’re some kind of sapphire.”

Hank whistles low.  _ “Pretty. _ What the fuck do I need jewelstones for, Reed?”

Gavin shrugs. “Put them in the handle of a dagger and sell it to a passing merchant in fall-  _ or _ you could finally make an honest man out of your witch, Anderson.”

“Herbalist.” Hank corrects without malice, the back and forth between them familiar at this point. Connor could save people with his concoctions and uncanny ability to  _ know.  _ Which made him a witch in Gavin’s books. But he can see Hank considering it carefully.

“C’mon, Hank. You see him don’t you- the man likes fine things! A few of these in a bracelet or a ring and he’d stay with you for eternity.”

Hank huffs, opening his mouth to correct Gavin about his assumptions on Connor’s character, but closes them as he realizes that maybe he’s right for once. Or at least that the man who’s been with him for years might actually appreciate a mark proving his position in Hank’s life.

“Sell the ones you don’t use, or give them all to him. I don’t care- this is probably my last haul until Summer comes around. I’ve got other buyers if you don’t want them.”

Hank shakes his head, shoulders slumping. “Alright, I’ll accept the damn trade. You’ll have your shit by the end of the season. Smoker might take a little longer- mid summer.”

Gavin grins, happily closing his satchel and reaching to shake Hank’s hand before moving to head out. “Then I’ll see you in a few weeks, Hank!”

Hank waves stiffly and Gavin is on his way back out of town.

Up the steep trail to the cabin his family built and the plot of land it sits on just on the other side of the river that separated him from the rest of the village folk. It’s getting worn down in places and he’ll need new lumber in a few years to rebuild some of the walls, but it’s home.

It was isolated- only for him these days.

The old tales kept most folk out from this side of the river- stories about fae and creatures that could steal horses and cattle from your garden without breaking a sweat. The only people crazy enough to venture into the mountains were the Hunters. Generations the trade had been passed down and though his sisters happily left the area to find their territories elsewhere, his brother had gone off to seek better fortunes.

Gavin though? Gavin liked the solitude.

And the mountain always provided for those that resided on it.

===

The year was getting warmer, summer coming quick.

Hank had made true on his end of the bargain, supplying materials for him to start building the new smokehouse and fill the quiver on his back. He’d need to make a new bow by the time winter came, but finding the right wood had proven difficult. Many of the trees in this forest were old growth, worn with the ages. He’d have to travel further up to find saplings.

So further in he goes. Maybe he can even bring back a kill or two; the caravans were due through any day now and having as much smoked and dried meats as he could manage would set him up with enough resources to survive winter.

He walks next to his horse, never riding this deep into the thicket. The mare wasn’t one to startle easily, but the roots and dips in the undergrowth worried him. She’d be able to avoid them better without his weight on her back.

_ ”Hunter! Hunter! Hunter!” _ , the small, excited voices started echoing through the trees, Kaf shifting nervously as the air around them changed. Charged with ancient magics that Gavin knew well enough to avoid challenging.

But his family resided on this mountain healthy and hale due to respect and agreements that were always met. He’d find himself ruined if he ignored the rules entirely.

The fae came in many different forms and kinds, some of them changing day to day even. But this time of year was one of plenty which often meant the fae took larger, more intimidating forms.

But not always with him. They had no need to present themselves as intimidating, which meant that he was currently being swarmed by winged, large eyed humanoids ranging in sizes smaller than his hand to the size of a large cat. Their clawed toes and hands clung to his bags and coat, some toying with his bow and quiver while others were already collecting loose hair from Kaf’s mane.

He didn’t know what they did with it, but he figured their business was up to them.

Gavin spins in place as he feels one of his arrows being jostled “Ah ah ah! You know the rules- you don’t take any of my weapons.”

The fae merely grinned, not at all scolded. The creatures would steal his very breath if they could get away with it. The only thing keeping him from harm being an old promise his great-great grandmother had made. She must have been out of her mind, he thinks sometimes.

The story told was that she was shunned from the village, forced out into the wilderness. Only she didn’t perish like the townsfolk had expected.

She’d come back months later with goods of such quality that the town had begged her to allow them to buy- offering to trade anything. She’d bargained for a quart of the finest vodka in the village and disappeared once more back into the mountain.

Resources and protection for something fae could not obtain themselves- human liquor.

Eventually, their family started making their own. Selling excess to traders and keeping the best for the contract.

_ ”Such pretty things, Hunter!” _

It was an odd thing sometimes, how the fae could speak to him as if they were a single entity. Magic allowed many unusual things, he supposed.

He also knew they were attempting to butter him up so he’d hand over one of his arrows. Fae enjoyed human craftsmanship. Things made of wood and metal and cloth- his father had been known to bring carvings for them in exchange for favor. Gavin hadn’t made such deals yet, and the troublemakers were eager to see what they could swipe off him without his knowledge. They’d taken a charm once- and one of Kaf’s stirrups.

Why the fae needed a stirrup he’ll never know, but he had paid quite a bit for that brass and had to work longer into the year to earn enough to trade for a new one.

Gavin sighs, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a jar that immediately sent the fae into excitement.   
  
_ “You bring gifts, Hunter!” _

They took the jar from his hands as soon as he removed the lid, the vodka inside vanishing as they messily shared it, spiriting away the rest.

He’d made plum vodka this time, having found a decent stock of the fruits a few weeks ago. The fae made delighted noises as they passed the jar around easily despite the fact they were many times smaller than the glass. He never wanted to be on the bad side of these creatures- unsure of how strong they truly were.

The stories go that his great-great grandmother had been taken in the end. Just vanishing one evening into her long life into the woods never to return. Her children asking after her had only earned cryptic answers, but the fae were unashamed to say they had claimed her.

Not all of those in his bloodline had been taken, but it wasn’t uncommon to see one every few decades or so just disappearing.

The fae had never acted without complying to the contract, but each person was free to make their own deals for themselves if they had something the fae wanted. Perhaps some had bartered themselves along the way.

Gavin was always wary. Watchful. Untrusting. He did his part and brokered when he needed to, but he was vigilant against any traps the fae might lay for him.

“I have need of directions.”, he says as they settle around him in a happy daze. Not quite drunk, but vibrant and content. Their oddly-colored skin shining with power he couldn’t comprehend. It was why they loved the liquor; something inside it allowed them access to more arcane things. Or maybe it just freed them more.

_ “Oh, for what, Hunter? What shall you give?” _

Gavin reaches into his pocket and produces a coin- one from a foreign land he’d earned off a trader. The fae buzzed happily around him, clinging to his hand and touching the silver with their black talons.

“I need wood for a new bow. The finest length of Yew that this mountain can provide- free of knots, twists, disease and blemishes. And protection for my travel to it and back.”, he watched as the fae murmured amongst each other in a language he could not understand, coming to a consensus quickly.

_ “Yes, Hunter. We will find you Yew and you shall give us this silver and the bow on your back in return.” _

Gavin’s brows furrowed. It wasn’t uncommon for fae to ask more, but this was unusual. Asking for his weapons was skirting the edge of the contract. They could not take his weapons, but he could give them willingly.

At his hesitation, the fae started bombarding him with talk.

_ “The travel will be long, Hunter! And we must stay with you. Danger comes in many forms and not all creatures on this mountain will take kindly to your presence.” _

Gavin sighs, he supposes it will be worth it. The fae aren’t known for breaking their deals, and he’d be wandering the mountain for ages without them. He had hoped to sell his old bow to Hank- Cole reaching an age where he’d like to try sportier things, but he supposed he could make a beginner’s bow out of the Ash toward the base of the mountain.

“I will give you the bow and coin when I return here, safe and intact. Accept those terms and I agree to your contract.”

The fae chattered excitedly, tiny claws gripping at his clothing and urging him forward.

_ “Then come, Hunter! We shall take you to your new bow.” _

\---

The trek is longer than he expected, but Gavin isn’t sure if that’s because the tree the fae is taking him too is that deep into the mountainside or because they’re fucking with him.   
  
He’s seen the same boulder three times already. They’re walking him in circles.   
  
But he can’t say  _ shit _ because he didn’t specify  _ how  _ they took him to his destination, just that he needed them to guide him. And the little bastards know it too, chattering away with each other and him as if nothing is wrong.

And then, very suddenly, something  _ is _ wrong. The fae around him stiffen, falling quiet all at once. Gavin knows better than to ask just yet, crouching in the undergrowth and staring in the direction they are.

He can see their jittery urge to flee, but he’s bound them to him by demanding protection so they stay against their wishes. Their large black eyes are widened in fear and  _ fuck _ Gavin doesn’t want to know what can make the creatures react like this. He’s had a bear attempt to maul him only to be stunned and fucked with by the little bastards; they’re no lightweights.

And then an elk bull walks out in front of them and Gavin sighs, unbelieving.

The bastards were pranking him.

He huffs, reaching to draw his bow and a few arrows silently. Might as well make a good kill of it, few people in town would love a hide that large and the meat will sell well.

_ “Hunter, no!” _

He stalls just a moment at the frightened tone in their voice, but the arrow is already let loose. The elk hits the forest floor and Gavin narrows his eyes at the creatures huddled in his bush. The creature isn’t anything special, and it’s suffering longer than he would normally let it.

He stalks out of the bushes, noting how the fae stay behind, pulling his knife and finishing the kill cleanly. Wipes his blade on a bit of cloth, pulling his arrow free and placing it back in his quiver. He’ll need to gut the elk and start letting it drain so he has a hope of getting it onto Kaf’s back.

Who he’d left further back on the trail which means extra work for him, but it would be worth it.

But as he stands to strip his pack and begin the process, he spies a pair of shining yellow eyes watching him from beyond the trees.

Gavin freezes, heart rate skyrocketing, eyes slowly moving from where the golden slit-pupiled gaze watches him, up to a set of double horns, down a long graceful neck and-

_ Wings. _

The fae are chattering at him again, but he doesn’t hear them. The dragon in front of him doesn’t look particularly impressed or disturbed by his presence, but one raised brow indicates annoyance. A few impossibly-silent steps forward and a raised claw has Gavin ready to fucking  _ bolt _ , but it just points at the elk by his feet. Tilting it’s head, the pale blue-white creature begs notice. A polite question, but one that admonishes him for his meddling anyway.

Gavin’s brain decides to check out in that moment, leaving him stuttering out.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Enjoy your dinner.”

The dragon’s lips pull into a grin and long powerful jaws snap forward to wrap around the elk’s middle, a strong neck lifting the kill as if it weighs nothing and bring it closer to the dragon’s torso.

It drops it with a thunk at it’s own feet and begins it’s meal, heedless of Gavin’s presence.

Then Gavin notices the tugging on his clothing.

_ “Hunter! Please, let us leave. We have no power here.” _

And it’s the first time he’s ever heard that fear in the fae’s mouth, leaving him wondering just what kind of creature he has before him. The iridescent scales reflecting in the light, long dark hair like a mane down the dragon’s neck, a powerful yet sleek body maybe as tall as his cabin and twice it’s length.

Large leathery wings curled neatly by it’s side as it eats.

It could have just killed him in a third of the time it would have taken to negotiate the return of it’s dinner, and yet it did not. Manners seemed to matter with such a creature, then. So he bows slightly, speaking in the same kind of way he was taught with the fae.

“I take my leave. Good night, dragon.”

The verbiage is stiff, but it’s meant to be. Gavin hopes beyond hope he hasn’t offended the damn thing by his choice of words earlier, but it seems to take no notice at him other than a nod with blood-stained jaws.

And he lets the fae drag him away.

He’s dazed, not realizing the fae have abandoned their deal until they have him stopped by where he left Kaf, looking unsettled and eager to leave.

_ “We relinquish our contract, Hunter, and all promised for it. We shall not accompany you to that territory again. If you wish to find your sapling, you must do it yourself.” _

And Gavin barely has a moment to answer in confusion before they’re gone, leaving him alone in the woods. The fae almost never renege on a deal- he’s heard of it happening only twice because it would have resulted in certain death and fae do not deal in blood oaths.

Which means the dragon frightened them enough to coax them into giving up their valued treasures offered by him. Perhaps he is very lucky he didn’t get swallowed whole, then. It would have caused quite a problem for his deal with the fae for his protection.

He gives Kaf a pat on the neck, gripping her reins and leading her on foot back down the path to his cabin.

It’s getting too late to go wandering on his own.


	2. Two

Despite everything inside him telling him to  _ stop, _ Gavin is on Kaf’s back the next day, riding up the trail into the deeper parts of the mountain.

The fae haven’t met him here, but he doesn’t expect them to for a few days yet thanks to their run in with the dragon. He’d probably have to leave out some offerings to get them back their usual routine. Maybe some fruits and a little of the mead he’s been working on.

He can’t afford to be without them for too long. The mountain would reject him in a moment’s notice. As it had his brother when he broke the contract.

But for now, he needed a new bow. And that required good wood. Young growth and resilient strength.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself as he dismounts, leaving Kaf to a clearing where she can graze as he travels further in. He’s sure he can find his own way- the trees had begun to change when the fae were leading him the day before. He might not find  _ perfect,  _ but he would find good enough. 

He’s brought a hand axe for the job, a shaver, his hunting knife, and his bow. He doesn’t know what else lives this far into the mountain. If the fae won’t follow him in, then he’s on his own to keep his own ass intact.

He’s already had a few near misses on the mountain, and the scars on his face and chest ached in winter to remind him of those moments.   
  
He doesn’t plan on gaining any more lifelong aches and pains.   
  
But as he regretfully casts aside yet another branch after carefully stripping it to check for imperfections, Gavin wonders if this is all worth it.   
  
The wood up here was of no better quality, but the potential in the strength and fine grain of the wood kept begging him deeper and deeper. He’s always been greedy; never knew when to quit. He should be cutting his losses, and yet the search has grabbed hold of him.

So really he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when he found himself pocketing his axe after severing another sapling, turning around to find curious golden eyes observing him.

Some absurd part of himself wants to hiss in surprise like an angry cat, finding it fucking  _ impossible _ he didn’t hear the damn thing walk up on him, but he holds it together just barely. It lays in the clearing lazily, muscled paws folded neatly and wings tucked tightly to it’s sides to avoid the trees around it.

Still dumb from surprise, Gavin growls out, “Someone should put a bell on you, you know.”

And. Oh. Oh fuck. The dragon is going to fucking  _ eat him whole. _

Except, no. The flash of sharp teeth is a result of… laughter? The dragon’s lips are curled, mirth in it’s eyes. And the laugh isn’t grating like Gavin would expect, but smooth and deep.

“And who shall place the bell, Hunter? You?”, the dragon  _ speaks. _

Oh. Gavin shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. He’d expected mindspeak like the fae use with him, but the dragon speaks exactly as a human would. As if a jaw full of flesh-rending fangs aren’t enough to create a barrier for smooth speech.

At Gavin’s lack of an answer, the dragon gets to it’s feet, slinking closer. Cold grips Gavin as the grin turns derisive, disapproving.    
  
“Do you mind sharing with me what you are doing maiming my woods, Hunter? Without your fair folk, no less. One would think you are testing me and my patience.”

Gavin furrows his brow, squeezing a hand around the sapling in his palm as the flare of offense and self-righteous anger takes over.   
  
“If I could find some wood worth a fuck, I would’ve been out of your-”, Gavin glances over the dragon’s form, “-perfect fucking hair hours ago.”

And Gavin’s hand twitches because shit, no. Letting his fucking arrogance and quickly-fanned rage speak for him was exactly how he’d get fucking  _ killed. _ But he’s been out here for hours and this lizard thinks he can just throw him out? Like hell.

The dragon raises it’s brow again, like Gavin’s outburst is nothing more than a small dog yapping at it’s heels. And considering the creature’s head is most of the size of himself, that comparison isn’t far from wrong.

With a small shake of it’s large head, sending it’s mane flowing more evenly down it’s nape between the dark spines that sprouted in even gaps along it’s neck with a flourish as if bringing attention to it, the dragon huffs in mirth.

“And the stave you hold is not suitable for your purposes, Hunter?”

Gavin hums, bringing his hand scraper over the bark to strip it, cursing as he finds a knot right in the middle of the branch. Ugly and far too big to ignore or work around, Gavin drops it back onto the earth. “No, I can’t make a bow with this.”   
  
The dragon settles onto it’s belly, crossing it’s great clawed paws in front of itself and tilting it’s head. “You have a bow, Hunter. Why do you need another?”

Gavin growls, pulling his bow from his back and giving it a few pulls, showing the tension in the frame and string. “It’s aging poorly. I’ve had it for a few years and the last winter gave it a warp. It’s not as accurate as I need it to be and it’s getting worse. I need a new bow of better quality which means better wood which means stalking up and down this fucking mountain until I find it.”

The dragon leaned forward, extending a talon to pull at the string with a sharp twang. “And your fae brought you here to find better wood, hmm?”

Gavin nodded, placing his bow on his back once more. “They don’t like you though, left me to look for myself.”

The dragon laughs, “Ah, yes. The fair ones don’t like what they cannot control. I am outside of their influence.”, a sigh, “But perhaps I may be of assistance to you, Hunter.”

Gavin eyes the dragon suspiciously. “And why the fuck would you do that? For what in return?”

The dragon huffs indignantly, offended. “You think of me as one of your fae, Hunter? I do not abide by their rules- I am free to act as I please without the burden of exchange.”

Tense silence and then Gavin sighs, “Alright then, I don’t want to be wandering out here until sundown.”

The dragon grins toothily, standing once more, “Then come with me and we will find better wood for you. What may I call you, Hunter?”

Gavin bites his lip. Even the fae don’t know his name- names are powerful and to be given only with utmost care and trust. He’s not sure what kind of bullshit he’d be opening himself up to if he gave the dragon his name.

The dragon, seeing his inner turmoil, huffs, “Once more, I am not fae. I will not steal your mind by having your name, Hunter. I just wish to know.”

Gavin takes a deep breath, shifting unhappily but some kind of giddiness overtakes him as he sees the dragon watching him and waiting. He shouldn’t be trusting a creature that could eat him without thought or care and yet…”Gavin.”

The dragon grins, but without the kind of malice one would expect from a maw full of fangs.

“And you may call me Nines, Gavin.”, the dragon tosses back lightly as it begins to trot through the growth of the forest.

Gavin, unable to keep his tongue where it belongs, “Why the fuck do you have a number for your name?”

The dragon rolls it’s eyes, shrugging. “I am the Ninth to hatch. We choose our own names much later. My siblings found theirs as they left this mountain, but I have yet to find mine. Nines is still suitable.”

Gavin stares a moment, “There’s more of you out here?”

Nines looks over his shoulder sadly, “Not anymore. My siblings have left and I am the only one here. I have not seen them in many years.”

Gavin doesn’t know what to say to that except, “Mine left my ass out here a few years back too. Guess even dragons have family problems, huh?”

Nines snorts, “My siblings left to find their own territories or to establish their homesteads elsewhere. We do not hate each other. I wonder if you could say the same?”

Gavin falls silent.

No. No he could not.

But, with the same bluster he always carried with him, Gavin scoffs, “What the fuck do you mean? I’m a goddamn joy to be around.”

Nines chuckles and the sound is warm, echoing in the vastness of his chest. Something in his own chest responds happily to it, harsh expression softening at the easy banter.

It feels good. It’s been a long while since he had any semblance of a companion out here in the wilderness. Tina stayed in town, unable to cross the river, and Gavin spent many days alone. With his siblings scattered to gods knows where, there was very little contact he had that wasn’t transactional. Whether it was bartering his goods in town or making deals with the fae, he hadn’t been able to talk like this with anyone.

It felt good to share space and conversation, and Nines seemed to enjoy it too.

Those fiery eyes of the dragon watch him, waiting with a raised brow. Gavin had stopped walking, lost in his thoughts.

He shakes himself, “Well what are we waiting for, let's get a move on.”

Nines turns, leading the way up the mountain, Gavin following closely behind.

===

It gets colder as they hike up, and Gavin feels an ache in his legs. He’s not a lightweight when it comes to traveling on foot, but he’s been trekking for hours and the hill is steep.

Nines waits patiently for him in timely intervals, fire-gold eyes watching as he scrabbled up boulders that must seem just like small rock to the dragon. The dragon’s wings are tucked tightly against it’s side and it’s tail drags neatly behind it like a cat’s would. Gavin almost fell on the damn thing earlier, barely managing to miss the giant spikes extending from the tip. The whole beast was dangerous from nose-to-tip and Gavin wonders if those scales feel like razor blades just to add insult to injury.

“I  _ can _ hear your muttering from here, Hunter.”, the dragon speaks dully, unamused.

Gavin growls, “Yeah and if  _ someone _ here would offer a ride, then I’d be up this fucking hillside already instead of holding you back.”

Nines puffs in offense, a sneer of distaste on their lips, “I am not made to be  _ ridden  _ like a common  _ beast _ , Hunter. I am Lord of this mountain and you are-”

Gavin finally climbs over the last stone and thumps his palm against the dragon’s flank, finding his hand blessedly unshredded against shockingly warm scales. “Whatever you say, big guy. Let’s keep moving.”

The dragon huffs something that sounds definitely like “Humans.” and turns to continue up.

Gavin, never a fan of silence unless hunting, turns to speak. “Lord, huh? You some kind of god then?”

Nines glances at him, as if weighing his worthiness, then gives a slight nod. “I am bound to nature, Gavin. The power of the mountain is mine to wield and in turn I ensure it endures. It is why your fair folk dislike me- I am made of them and they are made of me. If I chose to- the entire mountain would rise up to cast them out.”

Gavin whistles, “You ever had to before?”

Nines is silent for a long while. “Only to one of my own kind.”

“I thought you said you were on good terms with your family.”, Gavin says softly.

Nines’ voice is quiet when they finally speak. “We are ancient and powerful, Gavin. And some of us go mad from it.”

Gavin feels an ache there, a sympathy. He still remembers desperately trying to figure out how to save his own brother from the power of the fae and failing. The man was a shell of what he once was- out there somewhere trying to find more and more power to sate his hunger.

“Yeah,” Is all he can really say, unsure how to offer commiseration and comfort.

“Here, Hunter. Up ahead.”, the dragon speaks softly.

Gavin looks, spying a dense patch of Yew, young and untouched. Protected by the boughs of their older siblings and healthy.

He approaches, measuring out a few with his hands, feeling for softness of disease and too-newness. Finding none, he cuts a few saplings free, stripping branches, and setting an end into the dirt to shave. All three of the staves are viable- incredibly so. He could make a spare, even.

“Fuck, this is incredible.”, Gavin sighs in relief. He could have made something work, but he’s tired of dealing with bullshit stock and their disappointing results after. The staves are flexible, but not weak. Good for forming and shaving into shape. The density is perfect, and he might even be able to get away with some carving and staining to bring out the grain.

Nines chuckles, bringing Gavin’s attention to fond eyes, “That is good then, as I grew them for you.”

Gavin’s eyes widen, “What?”

Nines hums, dragging a clawed toe through the soft earth at their feet. “The mountain is mine to control and I asked for it to gift you. We merely needed to allow enough time for the saplings to grow.”

Gavin glances back to the small thatch of saplings, brows furrowed. “No, those are at least three years of age. They sure as fuck didn’t grow in an afternoon.”

Nines laughs, “Every inch of this mountain answers to  _ me,  _ Gavin. You asked for perfect yew, and you have received it.”

Plenty of emotions run through Gavin in that moment, but the one instinct that’s kept him alive all these years in dealing with fae screams in terror, prompting him to drop the staves and stumble back. He’s been cursed- fuck there’s no way around it. Touching something made of magic could get him killed- or worse  _ indebted. _

“You’ve tricked me!”, Gavin spits out, heart racing.

Nines’ eyes widen, but Gavin is scared and  _ angry. _ “I didn’t ask for a favor of your magic,  _ dragon _ . What have you done to me? What is the price?”

The dragon flinches back and the warmth between them vanishes to let the freezing mountain air cut through Gavin. And he realizes that the bastard had been  _ spelling _ him the entire time.

His teeth chatter and his muscles seize, stopping him from bolting and leaving him at the whim of a creature certainly much smarter and more experienced than he will ever be. And  _ fuck _ he gave the asshole his  _ name. _

“There is no trickery here, Hunter. I ask for nothing in return.”

Gavin’s words are stuttered as he shouts, “Like hell!”

Nines snarls, “You judge  _ me _ , human? Interloper and hunter on  _ my _ lands! You insult me with your quick comparison to those that use you just as much as you use them. Have you forgotten such things as generosity? You receive these gifts because I have deemed you acceptable for them- not as a vessel for me to exert control and enthrall you.”

Gavin’s chest feels tight and he’s getting colder, but he stays standing just barely. He wants to argue and fight, but he’s too fucking frozen. How far up are they? How did he not even notice? It’s early summer and he never felt the change in temperature as they climbed up.

He’s going to freeze to death because he trusted a goddamn dragon.

Gavin stumbles back as Nines stalks towards him, fire in their eyes.

He doesn’t remember hitting the ground, just the jar in his spine as he thuds onto his ass, the dragon towering over him. He should defend himself, but he’s not able to reach for the bow on his back and he’s sure it wouldn’t help him anyway. Nothing he owns could pierce the dragon’s hide.

Hot breath billows over him and he’s expecting the rend of sharp teeth in his flesh, but it never comes.

Gavin dares to look up, seeing anger in molten eyes and… sadness.

Nine’s opens their mouth and Gavin can hear the aching twist of anger and pain,  _ “Out.” _

There’s the feeling of free-falling miles high and Gavin screams, disoriented and frightened. The world around him blurs into colors and shapes as some unseen force moves him.

And then everything comes into shocking detail as he’s unceremoniously cast to the forest floor- gentler than he expects but it stuns him all the same.

He scrabbles to his knees, trying to crawl away until there’s a curious and concerned huff at his hair, urging him to look up.

_ Kaf. _

Her reins are loose at her nape and Gavin wraps the leather around his fist to help himself to his feet, stumbling until he finds purchase at her side.

He’s back at the clearing he left her. Unharmed, the warm air swirling around him and thawing him out but by bit. As if he hadn’t just been at the top of the mountain with an angry dragon ready to tear him to shreds.

Gavin doesn’t think, just jumps onto his mare’s back and takes off back down the trail, not stopping until he sees home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way to go Gavin, you're not going to win over your dragon BF by insulting him, you know...


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin tries to make up for his behavior, but finds himself with the shittiest round of luck yet once more.
> 
> At least Nines seems remorseful about it...

Gavin is a great many things.

A good negotiator. A good hunter. A skilled crafter. An asshole.

_ A coward. _

He knows, in the deepest ache of his gut, that he should go back up that gods forsaken mountain and apologize. But he’s afraid.

What could be waiting for him there, in the territories he has no protection from?   
  
The fae had been incensed when he went hunting a few days after being cast from the far reaches of the mountain.   
  
_ “You stink of it’s magic, Hunter!” _ , they had cried as they prodded at him.

_ “Foolish human! You are lucky the lord showed you mercy!” _

And Gavin feels it in his bones- the shame of causing whatever the fuck happened. But he’d panicked and the fucker had used  _ magic. _ How was he supposed to stay sane under those conditions? But he hadn’t been harmed, no. Nines hadn’t done anything to him, despite the insult and anger.

So he should go up, shouldn’t he?   
  
Gavin lingers on the trailhead, weighing his options.   
  
No, he shouldn’t. He should stay firmly right the fuck here and forget about it all. It would be the smart thing to do and the thing that would most likely keep him alive. He doesn’t  _ need _ the dragon and the dragon doesn’t need him. He could just continue living the rest of his fae-protected unnaturally long life bragging about that time he survived pissing off a dragon at taverns.

But.

He coaxes Kaf along the path anyway.

===

He started travelling on foot awhile ago, leaving Kaf just shy of the edge of the territory that’s still under fae protection. If he’s going to get shredded for all of this effort, he doesn’t want his horse involved in it either.

Another fucking branch trips him up and he curses as he flails to balance himself.

It’s darker than it should be for the afternoon and nothing looks quite right- like the woods have shifted. But onwards he climbs, to the territory he last saw the dragon lord.

The forest looks gloomier the further in he goes, making it hard to see as he makes his way up. He didn’t think he’d need a damn lantern in daytime, but maybe he should’ve thought it through more. It’s clear whatever the fuck is going on is due to the dragon. Either he’s being purposefully misdirected to discourage his travel or maybe moody dragons just have that effect on their environment.

He’s grumbling about everything as he climbs up a rocky ledge he’s  _ very sure _ didn’t exist before when he feels the world shift around him suddenly, his foot sliding off it’s grip and sending him falling with little more than a startled gasp.

It’s too sudden to find a handhold, and he didn’t think he was high enough from the ground that it  _ mattered,  _ but it’s hard to gauge things in the gloom. He hits the ground under him hard, ankle blooming in pain, forcing a yell out of him as he crumbles into a heap.

The woods around him are silent under his own pained breathing and the ringing in his head.

He’s afraid to move. Afraid to look at what the fuck happened to his ankle. He’s alone and he can’t even call for the fae here in the dragon’s territory.

How could he be this fucking stupid? He can’t get back down the mountain like this. He has enough rations in his bag to make it a few days but without enough water he’s in for a long and suffering death in the middle of nowhere. If his ankle isn’t broken, then maybe a few days is all he needs before he can move enough to splint himself and slowly make his way back to his own territory.

His boot feels tight, the swelling already hitting far too quickly and Gavin isn’t sure he brought even basic medicine with him. Nothing to bring down the pain and inflammation.

Panic wells in his throat and the dark seems to get even deeper around him, spinning too fast for him to track.

He feels a shard of fear pierce his chest as consciousness escapes his grip.

===

The ground feels cold underneath him, but the heat huffing about his face is what wakes him.

He gasps as the sharp pain from his foot and his head hits him, a strangled cry in his throat. It’s dark and he  _ can’t see _ and something is breathing over him.

Goddammit. It’s probably a bear. He’s fucking  _ dead. _

“Hunter?”

And Gavin doesn’t know whether the feeling that rushes over him is relief of even more fear, but it paralyzes him all the same.

Nines. Nines found him. And now might fucking  _ eat him. _ If he wanted to- Gavin hadn’t exactly given the dragon a reason to  _ not _ eat him.

There’s a huff, then a solid thud through the forest floor as the dragon settles on it’s haunches.

“What are you doing out here alone, Gavin?”

Gavin growls, suppressing a cough as the rasp in his throat makes him wonder just how long he’s been passed out here. It’s still daylight, but barely.

“Fell.”

He expects a derisive snort from the dragon- some indication that the beast feels satisfied over his condition, but there’s nothing. Just a deep sigh.

Gavin goes to move, nausea rolling over him as he attempts to sit up. His head feels wrong, heavy and throbbing. The pain in his ankle still pulses and he’s still laying on the corner of his bag where he fell on it, the lumpy items inside it digging into him.

He gives up his attempt to move, laying limp once more.

“You’re injured.”, Nines speaks softly.

Gavin grimaces, “Yeah.” He can’t think of anything more to say really. He’s laying in a heap at the edge of- of…

_ Wait. _

“What the fuck happened to the ledge I fell off of?”

The ground around him is flat, grass and small foliage growing in patches. The trees surround them both, looking as old and established as any other part of this forest.

But the wall of rock is gone.

_ Has he gone insane? _

The dragon shuffles unhappily next to him, fiery eyes looking sad and guilty.

“I meant to discourage you, not lead to your injury.”, Nines finally admits.

And  _ oh _ Gavin feels anger washing over him. The dragon could bend nature to his will- of course he had been behind all the bullshit he’d hit on the way up here. 

_ Including the thing that could have killed him. _

Gavin scoffs, “Well, I can’t exactly find you if I can’t walk, huh?”

The dragon’s ears fold back like a reprimanded dog and Gavin grimaces as he tries to move again. He still has to figure this out- still has to get himself walking again if he hopes to survive.

Nines gets up, looking distraught as Gavin holds back a cry of pain. The concussion hasn’t gotten any better- the world is spinning around him leaving him in vertigo.

“Gavin, stop. You’re making it worse.”, the dragon sounds just shy of begging.

Gavin bares his teeth, stopping his struggle- not because Nines asked him to- but because his will to keep fighting abruptly breaks. He’s in pain. He’s unable to get up or defend himself. He can’t get back home.

He feels tears prick his eyes, deep panic setting in.

There’s a jab at his chest, startling him.

“Chew this, Hunter. It’ll help.”, the dragon orders of him, one curved talon still poised over his sternum.

He follows the talon as it moves from his torso to a plant growing by his side, green and new. Gavin has no idea what the fuck it is- if his senses were working right he might be able to tell. Or maybe not- maybe this is something Nines created just for this moment.

His hand is sluggish as it moves to grip the shoot and yank it, plucking the leaves and sticking them in his mouth.

If Nines was trying to kill him off properly, he’s sure there’s other ways to do it than poison.

_ Like forcing him off a goddamn ledge. _

It tastes awful, but most medicinal things do. He chews anyway, and sighs as relief washes over him. A pain killer, then.

His body starts going numb, and the dizziness increases. It’s with yawning terror that he realizes he’s going to pass out again here. He thrashes in panic, unable to get very far when everything is this fuzzy.

“Easy, Gavin. You’re safe here.”, the dragon’s voice is rumbling and pleasant. It coaxes him further under, but he’s shivering. The sun is nearly gone and he isn’t dressed for it.

He’s not even aware he manages to express his discomfort before heat envelops him.

“I will keep you warm, Hunter. Sleep.”, Nines’ distant voice insists.

He hears it echo in his mind as the world around him gets more and more distant before leaving him entirely, the darkness taking him under.

===

Gavin wakes in fits and starts- sometimes only keeping his eyes open for mere moments before falling back asleep. He doesn’t know where he is, the world around him seems unnaturally lit and the sky shouldn’t be  _ pink. _

It frightens him; being unable to tell what’s around him or what dangers might be nearby.

But there’s a warm rumbling coming from around him each time the panic grows, easing him back under once more.

He doesn’t realize he’s awake again until he’s reaching out for the odd, pink sky and finds warm flesh under his fingers instead. Gavin’s mind is slow to put it together, but he tracks the darker streaks until he sees more skin folded among a great blue-white frame.

Veins. Tissue. Scales on the limbs holding these vulnerable things together.

_ Wings. _

The sun filters through the stretched skin above him, diffusing it into soft, rose tones. The wing-skin is soft to the touch- like kid leather or lamb. Faintly fuzzy like the soft side of a hide, but clearly resilient and malleable.

Nines had never stretched it’s wings out during their travels so he had never seen them. The delicate-looking membrane makes him morbidly curious in the ways his mind always wanders as a trapper and hunter. If he  _ wanted _ to take Nines down- he’d start here. Digging a blade deep into the flesh webbed with arteries and veins and tearing until the dragon was too weak to fight him off.

He even has the blade in his pocket; if he wanted to.

But.

He doesn’t.

It’s warm and quiet under the canopy of Nines’ wings, pressed up against what appears to be the dragon’s side and kept safe for however long he’s been asleep.

His head hurts less and so does his ankle. He shifts restlessly as the realization dawns on him, wanting to test the limits of what has and hasn’t healed.

He does manage to sit up at Nines’ side with great effort and some huffing. He feels weak and…

Hungry. Thirsty.

Gavin’s pack is still close by, easy to pull dried fruit and jerky from as well as his waterskin. He’s halfway through both when he freezes, remembering his bow had been on his back when he fell.

He’s frantic for a moment- his quill and bow aren't in their place on his person and they aren’t around him either. Did he lose them when he fell? Did they get swallowed up by the earth when Nines righted it’s wrong on the environment?

There’s grumbling in the flank behind his back, the great canopy of Nines’ wings shuddering before recoiling, nearly hitting Gavin over the head as Nines pulled them in at his side.

“You’re squirming, Gavin. Didn’t you just wake?”, the dragon mutters, eyes still looking wet from sleep.

Gavin wants to respond in a worthwhile way; Nines did him an incredible favor by giving him medicine and protecting him up to this point  _ but his fucking bow. _

“Where’s my bow and quiver?”, he rasps out, still not put together after his suffering.

Nines’ ears flick backwards and then the dragon reaches to it’s side, dropping a bundle at Gavin’s feet.

Gavin reaches for the quiver first, dumping the arrows and checking them for cracks and damage- the arrowheads alone cost him a fair amount of money and the body of the arrow itself took several days to craft in a way that shot straight and true.

Some are broken, but the arrowheads are alright. It’s salvageable. 

And his bow-

He grabs it, watching it crumble into a pitiful heap in his hand. Broken down the back, string loose and unrepairable.

This is his livelihood. This is how he stays alive in these woods and… it’s been destroyed.

His head is spinning, a whine setting in between his ears.

“Gavin, calm down. You’ll injure yourself again.”, the dragon admonishes.

And the fucker is right, but he can’t take his eyes off the shattered remains of his bow- already counting the days lost to crafting a new one. And that’s assuming he can even find wood worth a fuck while he’s limping around like a poor bastard.

And  _ fuck. _ His injury. He can’t hunt with a bad foot. Can’t carry his kills to Kaf’s travois or deal with them when they’re home.

“Gavin.”, the voice makes him startle, finding a large, scaly muzzle encroaching over his lap.

The dragon looks somber, apologetic even. And Gavin stares into depthless golden eyes as he tries to get his breathing under control.

“You aren’t fully healed- the herbs helped but you’re still fragile. I’m worried about your head more than your foot, but both are still at risk. Be aware of it, Hunter.”

Gavin grits his teeth. “Can’t fucking hunt if I have a shit leg and a broken bow.”

Nines sighs, thoughtful, “Will your fair folk not help you?”

He wants to shake his head but the world is still spinning a bit too much for that, “No. If I’m not useful to them enough in exchange, I don’t get shit. And healing isn’t really their thing- it would cost too much.”

There’s a long silence, then a soft murmur, “I expected too much of you, Hunter. You expected me to harm you with my power and then I… did. You were right to be wary of me.”

Gavin closes his eyes, hands clenching around the pile of useless wood and string in his lap. He’s upset and angry, but also oddly understanding. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t so damn untrusting and reactionary, but Nines’ quick-flaring temper hadn’t helped either.

A nudge, to get him to open his eyes and then he finds another small shoot in the ground.

“No, I’ve slept enough. I need to go home.”

Nines shakes it’s head, “It won’t make you sleep, just ease the pain as we get you down the mountain.”

Gavin nods, reaching for the leaves already until he freezes, realizing what the dragon said, “We?”

Nines hums, “Yes, I will ensure you make it home and see to your care as you heal.”

Gavin gawks, looking away as Nines’ intense eyes bore into his.

“It’s the least I can do, please accept it. At least let me get you home.”

Gavin huffs, “Can’t you just magic me away again?”

The dragon looks reprimanded, and tilts it’s head in acquiescence, “Yes, but it could injure you more. There’s no gentle way to do it. It would be better to walk you down.”

“Fuck.”

Gavin doesn’t speak more on the subject, sticking the herb leaves in his mouth and chewing through the bitterness. When he’s done, spitting out the remains, he feels the pain already easing and Nines moving to it’s feet.

He sputters as the dragon’s curtain of shiny black hair rains down in front of him, “Grip firmly and pull yourself up. I can’t carry you, but I can help.”

Gavin doesn’t respond, not sure what to say. He’s sure he wouldn’t let someone go yanking about his hair for any reason, but Nines is insistent and waiting. Gavin gathers his bag, shoving his destroyed bow inside it, and heaves it onto his back along with his quiver.

He’s hesitant to just grab Nines’  _ hair,  _ so he does his best to grab as much of it in his fists as he can to distribute his weight. The dragon grunts as he begins to haul himself up onto his feet- or well foot, as it may be. Gavin hisses as the sharp pain, even dulled by the medicine, forces him off his injured foot.

He hobbles forward, hopping and finding it awkward, but Nines stays stalwart under his hands and Gavin finds his balance soon enough.

“Just fucking… go slow. I don’t want to fall on my ass.”, he grumbles, finding it ridiculous that he’s using a dragon lord as a goddamn crutch.

“Of course, and the travel will be smooth. I will ensure it.”, the rumble of Nines’ voice comes through the side of it’s thick, serpentine neck and it feels as warm as the scales on it’s skin.

Gavin finds himself leaning into it, letting Nines set the pace and responding to it in rhythm.

The ground is kind to them, and Gavin shouldn’t be surprised that Nines meant to keep their travel gentle by force of magic, but he is.

“Gods, doesn’t changing all this exhaust you?”, Gavin barks, unsure how much power Nines actually has.

Nines hums, still maintaining their pace, “Yes and no. I merely have to keep concentration- the mountain does the rest.”

Gavin doesn’t know how to fucking respond to that, but he supposes the magic just comes naturally to creatures like Nines. Gavin wouldn’t know how to ward his own goddamn doorway if he was backed into a corner and taught by Anderson’s  _ witch. _

===

The sun is past noon when they break for the first time, Gavin hopping over to a rock to sit heavily down on. He’s sore and tired, there’s a stitch in his side from the awkward gait and he’s hungry. He rifles through his bag for more provisions, Nines settling on the ground in a way that reminds him of the cougars he’s seen further south- lazy and indulgent. Legs stretches out in front of itself as it settles onto it’s side.

He stares up at the sky- finding clouds scarce and the temperature at its peak. He’s sweating under his shirt, the musk of it mixing with the earthy scent of laying in the dirt.

“How long was I out when you drugged me up?”, Gavin asks between handfuls of nuts and dried berries.

Nines hums, “A moon, nothing more.”

Alright. So this is the next day. Hopefully Kaf wouldn’t stomp him to death for leaving her tacked for an entire two days.

“When I get to my horse, you can go back up. I’ll have it from there.”

Nines half-lidded dozing stops abruptly, the dragon’s head shooting upright, bright eyes widening, “No! No, I told you- I owe you care until your injuries are settled.”

Gavin stops his chewing, glancing over the giant beast in front of him with a measuring gaze, “Don’t think you can fit inside my goddamned house to care for me. I appreciate the sentiment, but I can stick it out.”

No, he really can’t. Not when he can’t walk or hunt on his own. His distillery needs daily maintenance and he might not have enough reserve to make up for the weeks it will take for him to fully heal. And fuck his  _ bow. _ He’ll need to craft a new one somehow.

But a goddamn dragon can’t help with any of that. What was Nines going to do? Hover around his fucking porch waiting for him to emerge and give it some task it could complete in the yard? Crazy, is what that was.

Nines snarls, a deep chattering hiss in it’s throat as it takes Gavin’s rejection badly, “I am  _ useful,  _ Hunter, I can prove myself as such. My magic alone will aid you should you request it.”

Well. Fuck.

A dragon lord’s magic at his disposal due to a debt? Who’s he to say no?

“Fuck, alright. No need to get pissy. I’ll let you help me, but don’t get upset when I leave you outside.”

The dragon’s anger is quenched as quickly as it came, leaving the more mild-mannered and strange beast Gavin was used to in it’s wake.

Gavin finishes his lunch, finding Nines already at his side before he can even ask, helping him back upright.

Alright, this might not be too bad.

===

Kaf is utterly  _ pissed _ at him.

The mare wasn’t tied down when he left her, but she stayed put as she was trained to be, waiting for him. Her tack padding is sweaty and she’s clearly huffy about it. He’s been headbutted nearly off his feet a few times, Nines standing anxiously nearby.

“Are you sure this creature can be trusted with your safety?”, the dragon asks, eyes wary.

Well, that’s something. “What, Kaf scare you?”

Nines looks him in the eye with no small measure of seriousness, “Horses are beasts made of spite and resentment. And they have too many teeth.”

Gavin laughs, deep and loud, “And what, you have a normal amount of teeth?”

Nines’ ears pin back, offended,  _ “I  _ am not an herbivore.”

Gavin sighs, nodding, reaching to pat Kaf down a few more times, promising a thorough rub down and a wash when they get home. Maybe, if he can stay on his feet long enough.

She settles down enough for him to clamber on, Nines lingering close, still nervous.

“C’mon, we’re not far.”

===

Nines seems more uneasy as they get further down the mountain, gait uncertain and twitchy.

“Nines?”, Gavin asks quietly, the dragon’s hide shuddering in surprise before turning to him, “What’s got you all riled up?”

A moment of tenseness, then, “I’ve never been this far down before. Your fae are unhappy with my presence.”

Gavin shrugs, “They can fucking deal. I’ll make it up to them later.”

Nines looks anxious still, and Gavin doesn’t like it. It’s making Kaf skittish.

“Look, calm down. If it’s that bad, you can go. I have it from here.”

A spitting hiss, just as Gavin expected. Kaf’s ears pin back at the sound, sidestepping a little but holding to her training.

“I keep my promises, Hunter.”

Gavin nods, “Yeah, yeah. Then stop looking like you’re expecting to get stabbed or something. We’re almost home.”

Nines brightens up at that, long neck craning upwards as if looking for a glimpse of the cabin through the trees. It makes Gavin chuckle- and he wonders if the dragon has ever even seen anything human-made like this.

Gavin’s cabin isn’t large or ornate- it belonged to his lineage so it has room to spare for a family, but it’s practically built. The winters are harsh here and the cabin is squat for it to help retain heat. The roof angled to cast off snow, the distillery and smokehouses siting nearby are made from the local lumber. A cask for water he draws from the river and space to keep flame by it to stave off a freeze.

It looks… well it’s not impressive to his eyes but Nines’ widen upon sight of it in the evening sun.

“Oh.”, the dragon mutters in a soft tone, “I didn’t realize you lived so close to the river.”

Gavin hums, “Yeah. Closer to town like this.”

He’s already started hobbling off Kaf, taking her to the stable he remembers helping his father rebuild… 40, 50 years ago? He can’t recall, but he’d been young and being among the fae meant his life was longer than most. It could cause some problems with his recollection.

Nines poked it’s head through the open door comically, watching warily as Gavin leans on the mare to strip her tack and brush her down. It’s not a perfect job- he’s exhausted and in pain, but it’ll do so she doesn’t feel neglected. Now she just needs-

Gavin eyes the dragon peering at him for a second before shrugging, “There’s bales of grass around the side- grab a quarter for me?”

Nines stares him down for a long moment, and Gavin is worried that he’s stepped too far when the dragon nods seriously before retracting it’s great head from the stall.

And then there’s some huffing and grumbling before the dragon lord reappears, a roughly shredded section of hay dangling from it’s lips, waiting.

Gavin stares before pointing at the feed basket, “In there. Thanks.”

Nines drops it dutifully, spitting a little after trying to cast away the remnants of grass stuck in it’s teeth, a long pink tongue jutting through the gaps in it’s fangs. Gavin can’t help his laugh at the sight of it, earning a glare.

“Sorry, sorry, you’re struggling there. Let me help.”

Gavin hops over to the water basin beckoning Nines closer, dipping his hands in the chill water before using rough palms to get the stubborn vegetation out of Nines’ maw. The dragon sighs in relief as the last of it falls away and Gavin…

Stays there, palms warming on smooth, scaled cheeks. There’s something about Nines’ magic that can be felt through it’s skin just as much as the heat can be. Buzzing like a hive of bees just under it’s skin.

He… didn’t notice it when he woke against the dragon’s side that morning. Spent too much time panicking and in pain.

Fuck. He’s still in pain. Exhausted, filthy from his travels and stressed.

But Nines allows him a few more curious touches along it’s skin, looking almost content, before Gavin pulls away.

“Sorry. I’m tired. Thank you for your help- I don’t get a lot of it out here.”, Gavin speaks honestly. What harm is there in doing it? If Nines was serious about helping him, then maybe a little coddling would be alright.

Nines nods, “Of course. Let me help you to your home.”

The short jaunt seems like an eon, and he stops to sit at the stairs to his small porch as Nines encourages another one of his miracle cure plants out of the hard-packed soil. Gavin takes it as he did before, relaxing under the relief of the painkiller and feeling groggy.

“That one should help you sleep, Hunter. I will be here in the morning.”, the dragon’s voice is calming in a way. Like a cave choosing to speak to him- deep and just a little raspy.

Gavin stares, considering for a moment to just curl up at Nines’ feet and sleep there, but he can’t. Not again.

So he nods, moving silently to his door and easing himself inside. He doesn’t quite strip out of his clothing- or at least doesn’t remember it outside of the dulled pain of finally removing his boot, too tired to wash up before collapsing on his bed.

And dreaming of waking up to rumbling warmth and the pink canopy of Nines’ wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, Gavin. What are you going to do now that you've gotten this far?
> 
> Also I should mention that Gavin referring to Nines as 'It' is deliberate. Nines is a dragon and Gavin has no idea what gender the creature might have and certainly doesn't ask. That will be corrected later as the story goes on and he's given reason to think about it more.
> 
> It's not meant in a derogatory manner, but rather a general misunderstanding of what Nines is.


End file.
